The arrogant billionaire, p.1
The Arrogant Billionaire, page 1
THE ARROGANT BILLIONAIRE
THE BALTIMORE BOYS
BOOK 2
SAMANTHA SKYE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Samantha Skye
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
ISBN 978-0-6457144-3-2 (ebook)
ISBN 978-0-6457144-4-9 (Paperback)
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Cover Design: Angela Haddon
Editor: Nice Girl Naughty Edits
Proofreading: Kimberly Dawn
Created with Vellum
CONTENT INFORMATION
This book contains spicy scenes, swearing and descriptions of violence. It also contains information and dialogue on domestic/partner violence.
It is a single mom, fake engagement, opposites attract, billionaire romance that will have you hot under the collar and keep you on the edge of your seat.
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Enjoy.
CONTENTS
Chapter One - Emily Carr
Chapter Two - Benjamin Rothschild
Chapter Three - Emily
Chapter Four - Benjamin
Chapter Five - Emily
Chapter Six - Benjamin
Chapter Seven - Emily
Chapter Eight - Benjamin
Chapter Nine - Emily
Chapter Ten - Ben
Chapter Eleven - Ben
Chapter Twelve - Emily
Chapter Thirteen – Emily
Chapter Fourteen - Ben
Chapter Fifteen - Ben
Chapter Sixteen - Emily
Chapter Seventeen - Ben
Chapter Eighteen - Emily
Chapter Nineteen - Ben
Chapter Twenty - Emily
Chapter Twenty One - Ben
Chapter Twenty Two - Emily
Chapter Twenty Three - Ben
Chapter Twenty Four - Emily
Chapter Twenty Five - Ben
Chapter Twenty Six - Ben
Chapter Twenty Seven – Emily
Chapter Twenty Eight - Ben
Chapter Twenty Nine - Emily
Chapter Thirty - Ben
Chapter Thirty One - Emily
Chapter Thirty Two - Ben
Chapter Thirty Three - Emily
Chapter Thirty Four - Ben
Chapter Thirty Five - Emily
Chapter Thirty Six - Ben
Chapter Thirty Seven - Emily
Chapter Thirty Eight - Ben
Chapter Thirty Nine - Emily
Chapter Forty - Ben
Chapter Forty One - Ben
Chapter Forty Two - Emily
Chapter Forty Three - Ben
Chapter Forty Four - Emily
Epilogue - 12 months later - Ben
The Damaged Billionaire
Also by Samantha Skye
Also by Samantha Skye
Also by Samantha Skye
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE - EMILY CARR
We push our way through the already full crowd, making our way to the back of the bar. Friday night drinks on Leslie Street is always a bad idea, but every year on this date, this is where we come.
“I’ll get the champagne!” Sarah hollers as she detours across the room to the busy bartender as Allie and I grab the last table before anyone else can.
“I hate this place,” I say to her as I slump into the chair, looking around at all the arrogant suits in the room. They’ve no doubt just come off a hectic week of working day and night to try to make their next million.
My skin prickles with a mixture of anxiety and fear, but I push through it, knowing my beautiful daughter, Rosie, is tucked in at home, nice and safe. I should be with her; the mom guilt of leaving her never goes away, but I know she thrives in her independence when we are apart, regardless if I like it or not.
“Come on, it isn’t all bad. There’s some eye candy in this place, don’t you think?” I roll my eyes. That’s what I thought when I first met Jeremy. What a terrible mistake that was. Allie is younger than me by about four years, and even though at twenty-nine, I am not old, I feel like I have lived three lifetimes already. We’ve only just arrived, and I already can’t wait to get home and sit on the sofa with a good book.
I see the door of the bar open again and another five men walk in, all looking distinguished, dapper, and totally full of themselves. I huff out my frustration. We come here every year just for this purpose. It’s a reminder of everything I have been through and never want to go through again.
“They only had the expensive stuff, so I thought we would treat ourselves tonight!” Sarah says as she puts an ice bucket with a bottle of French champagne on the table, followed by three champagne glasses. “It is raining men here tonight.” Taking a seat, she surveys the room.
“It is a meat market and hasn’t changed a bit in the twelve months since we were here last,” I sass as I spot a few men hanging by the door, but just one look at their suits is enough to make my stomach curve into itself.
“Give me that bottle.” Grabbing it from the table, I rip open the foil. I no longer drink very much, but like a professional, I grip the bottle at the bottom, hold the cork still, and twist the bottle in my hand exactly six times. The cork pops quietly as I lift it gently with my hand, the small fizz only reaching my ears, and I pour three glasses while still holding the base. I am nothing if not well trained in the art of how to open and pour champagne.
“Happy anniversary!” Sarah and Allie sing in unison, holding up their glasses.
“Thank you, girls. I wouldn’t have survived without you,” I say, smiling, thankful they have both been in my corner these past few years.
We sip our drinks, and I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I always feel on edge in the city. What if I see him? What if he spots me? I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. The need to be both smart and safe while maintaining a normal life is such a balancing act. But this reminder of my former life is necessary, no matter how much my anxiety skyrockets from it. It gives me the courage to continue. As I sip on my champagne, I think of all that has happened and feel the small bubbles dance in my mouth. The sensation fills me with glee. I’ve come so far. I made it out unscathed.
Well, almost.
“So tell me about your week,” I quiz Sarah, wanting to hear all about her latest interaction with our new school gardener. There is a no fraternizing policy at William Heights Elementary School, so staff members are off-limits to each other. So far, Sarah has been adhering to that policy, but their flirtation is off the charts. It really is only a matter of time.
“He picked me a bunch of roses from the gardens and left them in my classroom this morning,” Sarah says wistfully, and I notice a blush creeping up her neck.
“Oh, how sweet!” Allie exclaims. She is the romantic one of us. Always dreaming that a charming prince will come in and sweep her off her feet. If only she knew that wasn’t how the real world works.
I wish I was still as naive.
“So what are you going to do?” I press, wondering what their next move will be. The gardener is extremely good-looking in a rugged sort of way and appears to be a total gentleman, but I’m not sure she will give it a chance to blossom.
“I mean, he is nice…” She ponders her words for a moment, her small smile giving her real intentions away.
“Nice! He is delicious, that's what he is!” Allie exclaims while fanning herself with her hand, causing us all to laugh.
“Speaking of delicious…” Sarah’s attention wanders to a gathering of men by the bar. One, in particular, stands out, purely because he is so tall, broad, and looks like a wall of muscle. His white shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, his tanned skin peeking out. I divert my eyes before I find him any more attractive, not wanting to ever entertain a man in a bar such as this. I gave up men in suits a long time ago and have remained single since. Thank God for my battery friends.
My eyes roam the rest of the room, relieved that I haven’t seen anyone I know. Not that I expected to; my past life is now long behind me and there wouldn’t be anyone here who would have the first idea of who I was. Most of the men in this bar are too self-absorbed to care about anything else other than their whiskey and the nearest set of tits.
“I’ve gotta go to the little girls’ room. You two can survey the man meat without me.” It takes an hour to drive into the city from where we all live in the suburbs, and given I don’t drink much anymore, my bladder doesn’t always agree with the alcohol. While Sarah pours another round–our last for the night, because all three of us are keen to get back home and away from the city before it gets too dark and rowdy–I step away.
As I maneuver past a group of more corporate men and women filling the space, I get a push from behind and fly forward, slamming into a hard wall of chest.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I try to take a step back, but the crowd is closing in, and I don’t get far before I am pushed again, and large hands grab my waist to steady me. His hands are big enough that they nearly encase my entire waist, and I am staring right at his chest. Looking up, it feels like it takes forever to get to his face. It is the same man we were all admiring earlier. He is well over six feet tall and so broad I can’t actually see around him.
“It’s okay, I am used to women falling for me,” he says smoothly, his deep brown eyes looking right into mine, with a smirk I want to slap off his face.
“Oh, of course you are. It must be so hard catching us all?” My tone is saccharine, not in the mood for another cocky man like him. This place is swarming with them, and I really need to get out of here before my history becomes my undoing. His eyebrows raise in a challenge.
“Well, I have a lot of practice. Only, you might just be the most beautiful yet.” Great. He is flirting with me. I can’t believe this talk actually works on some women.
“And such big, strong hands to catch little ole me.” I bat my eyelashes and give him a fake grin.
“That is not all they are good for.” I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“Oh really? Please, do tell…” I purr, pretending to give in to his charm.
“Hmmm, I could always show you,” he offers, his thumb rubbing where it still rests on my waist, and I still. His hands feel good. Too damn good, but I’ve taken the teasing too far.
“Ugh, I do not want to know. Get your hands off me.” I groan as I step back, creating distance between us.
“You are the one that ran into my arms, sweetheart. I merely caught the cargo,” he says with a shrug, then slides his hands in his pockets.
“The cargo? Oh my God, you are such a Neanderthal.” I find myself shrieking a little. I need to rein it in before I start to sound like a crazy woman. I can’t help it, though. These places always put me on edge. It’s almost like I stepped back in time, but with the years of experience to make me stronger, if not entirely pessimistic about it all.
“A Neanderthal, huh? Well, don’t stop with the compliments, Mrs. Doubtfire. Please, continue.” His tone is amused as he rocks on his heels, smirk still intact.
“Mrs. Doubtfire?” My head falls back as I look up at him, and my hair flows down, reaching where his hands just seared my back with his touch. It makes me shiver.
“Well, if the shoe fits.” His piercing eyes look up and down my body, and understanding washes over me that he is insulting my wardrobe. I came straight from school, not bothering to change, so I am very G-rated compared to all the other women here.
I shake my head in annoyance. These suits are all the same.
I get another push from behind and land against his hard chest again with a huff, and I do not miss the warmth. My breasts are firmly squished to his solid form, and I take a deep inhale of his cologne. It’s a dangerous woodsy aroma mixed with deep desire, distracting me enough that I don’t notice I’m still flush against him until his grip around my waist gets tighter. My skin tingles where his hands touch my body, and I need to shake my head to get the thought of wanting to stay in his protective embrace from my mind.
I go to step away again, but then I am whisked up, my feet no longer touching the ground. I exhale a small shriek as I grip onto his shirt, white-knuckled, as he twirls me around and swaps positions with me. My back now against the bar, and my waist cold, he moves his hands onto the bartop on either side of me, caging me in and barricading me from the pushy crowd at the same time. He is getting nudges into his back now, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, my steely gaze drilling into him as I try to remain composed.
“Protecting you.” He smirks at me in a cute yet totally annoying kind of way.
“I don’t need protection.” The audacity of this man. I have been on my own a long time. I can look after myself.
“Benjamin,” he states, his eyes piercing mine.
“What?” My eyebrows furrow, trying to understand what he is talking about.
“Benjamin. My name is Benjamin. You can call me Ben.” His mouth lifts a little on one side as he introduces himself. Years ago, I would have swooned, but I am not the same woman I once was.
“That’s nice; however, I really need to go, so if you will excuse me…” I duck under his arm and walk away from him toward the bathrooms, not once looking around or looking back, even though I really, really want to.
But men in suits have no place in my life. Not anymore.
CHAPTER TWO - BENJAMIN ROTHSCHILD
I watch as the little firecracker with the pouty lips walks away. She called me a Neanderthal. Who even says that word? Her plump ass sways in her god-awful attire, not that I care about what she’s wearing. I am not sure what law firm she works at, but I know it isn’t mine.
Our interaction lasted five minutes, yet it was the most fun I have had in months. Her sultry lips and her quick wit has my mind racing. I’ve never had a woman banter with me like that before. I usually get the yes women, those who will do anything I ask, anything I want. It was new, and I liked it. Even if she toyed with me and threw insults my way.
I wasn’t wrong when I called her Mrs. Doubtfire. The name was said in jest to match her ridiculous name for me. I liked pushing her buttons and I saw her eyes flame as soon as it left my mouth. But the name fits. She has every inch of her skin covered in her basic black pants and white shirt combo and looks out of place in a bar like this. The women crowding this bar are much more liberal, showing off everything they have to offer, and I mean everything. I have already had two offers for a quick fuck in the bathrooms, and while I said no to both, after my run-in with her, my senses are awake and firmly looking for attention. Preferably from a short, sassy, dowdy-dressed woman.
I learned from a young age that appearances are everything. My mom always used to say Dress to impress, Benjamin. I can still hear her shrill voice in my head, and I shake it to remove it entirely.
“Want another?” Tennyson asks me, making my eyes leave the woman's ass to land on him. He is younger than me by two years, and I eye him suspiciously. He loves nothing more than a night of drinking and ladies, so I need to make sure he doesn’t stay out too late tonight. I don’t need to work all weekend to take down paparazzi photos of him doing things he shouldn’t be.
“Sure,” I say with a nod. He grabs my glass and drops it on the bar behind us, and I take another look in the direction of the bathroom but see no one. The hallway is now empty.
“Who’s the nun?” Eddie asks as he comes to join our circle to get away from the crowd. He himself is trying to detangle from the manicured hands that appear on his arms regularly.
The three of us stand at the bar, oblivious to all the looks we are getting. We are DC’s richest most eligible bachelors, our faces recognizable to the city's female population. We even trend with our own hashtags at times.
“No idea,” I reply, taking a swig of my fresh glass of whiskey that has appeared. She didn’t give me her name, something she clearly wasn’t keen to offer. Again, another first for me. Most women I meet friend request me the minute they leave my side, yet this one didn’t fall for my charm. I spot red fingernails inching up and down Tennyson’s arm, as yet another woman tries to lay claim to him for the night.
“She didn’t look like your type,” Eddie says, standing next to me, as Tennyson edges out of the conversation and stalks off to indulge in the red-nailed assassin.
“What is my type?” I ask him inquisitively, already thinking I may have found a new type. The kind of woman who is smart as a whip and sexy as a minx all together in a small package that would give me nothing but trouble. I am sure of it.
“Tall, Amazonian supermodel,” he fires back a little too quickly.
